"Hardly working, so far," I told him. He laughed and introduced himself, telling me that he'd seen me around a lot. I guess the gym gets a lot of regulars and a lot of people who join and then never come... and not very many in-betweens. I'm kind of pleased to be - apparently - classed with the regulars.
Later today, my sister called and I told her about yesterday's race. When she asked what my time was and I politely declined to answer (explaining that while there was nothing wrong with my time, I thought I'd be happier if I didn't focus on times), she told me that my non-answer was very me and rather like my response to scales. It's true - she's been asking about my weight for years, despite knowing that I never (well. Rarely. There was an incident a few months ago) weigh myself. It just seems pointless to focus on a number that, really, tells you very little... especially when less weight =/= better health (a friend told me recently that she wants to gain about ten pounds of muscle this summer to put her up to ---. "Can we not talk about weight, please?" I asked. A few minutes later, having thought about it, I pulled back to the topic. "Although it is refreshing to hear somebody want to gain weight," I said, and we left it at that). Moreover, even knowing better, I have a hard time resisting the impulse to judge myself on the basis of my shape/size; I rather think that broadcasting my weight (which I don't know right now anyway) would hurt rather than help my quest for sanity.
Anyway. I am starting to ramble, which is totally normal and probably good for me (sometimes), but I also probably have more pressing things to do. So, off I go to procrastinate further by ruminating on the relative weights of a bottle of water and a bottle of ice.
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